


Pride & Humor

by HQ_Wingster



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Caring, Character Study, Comfort, Crack Treated Seriously, Domestic Boyfriends, Fluff and Humor, Fluffy Ending, Harry Potter is a Little Shit, Hugs, Inspired by Poetry, Light Angst, Light-Hearted, Living Together, M/M, Normal Life, POV Harry Potter, Pandemics, Prose Poem, Relationship Study, Short & Sweet, Slice of Life, Stress Relief, Stressed Tom Riddle, Tenderness, Virus, Writing Exercise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:07:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29335788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HQ_Wingster/pseuds/HQ_Wingster
Summary: Home(noun):perhaps it’s not always from where you were from, but where you’re most wanted and loved; perhaps it’s the place or the arms, the people or the heart, where you could nestle into the warmth and know you’re safe, that you belong; perhaps it’s the laughter or the company we find ourselves returning to or the familiarity that greets us with open arms before we go; and perhaps it’s the amusement and the delight within the air that draws us back from where we were and leads us — now, we’re here.From a sliver of their own lives, as they weather the pandemic: sometimes humor and hugs are what makes it easier to get through.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Kudos: 17





	Pride & Humor

**Author's Note:**

> My, my  _ —  _ what a lucky bunch y’all are. I posted a cute ficlet yesterday and now, you’re getting a bit of slice-and-crack today. I love that  **:3c**
> 
> General Thoutghts → If I’m going to write my first pandemic story, I want these idiots to be part of it. I want them stuck in a flat, twiddling their thumbs as they’re working from home, and are dancing this weird dance where they’re  _ this close  _ to hurtling the other out the window and  _ this close  _ to turning their lives into a slice-of-life comedy because it adds some twists and turns into their mundane lives.

Pinning an adjective onto his boyfriend was like finding a loose sock, in that it took hours out of his day for him to hunt for where it was. 

As Harry dug through the hamper and found none to complete his pair, but what he found were some coins and if Tom knew, he’d have his hair. As he poked and prodded and even dove beneath the couches, he wondered if his boyfriend was a wizard or not because he couldn’t find a dust bunny or anything living in sight.

As he whipped out all of his clothing since he found it last time in a pant leg, and Harry could never live it down because Tom would bring it up again whenever they had dinner so he could tease him before dessert. And as he combed every metre and every breath of their shared flat, convinced that there was a thief by the name of  _ Tom ‘Thievin’ Riddle  _ — and then!

He found it.

But he felt stupid about it.

Because he found it in his drawer and it had been there the entire time. It probably slipped out while he was rummaging for something else a bit earlier, and that was exactly what it was like to find a word to describe Tom. Because Harry could skim through a book or thesaurus before eventually, coming back to one of the first words from the beginning.

Where about a page and a half down — and  _ oh _ , there was a portrait! — he’d find Tom and his smugness, sandwiched with synonyms. Like  _ ‘determined’ _ and  _ ‘eager,’ ‘hungry’  _ and  _ ‘avid,’  _ because all of these were cousins for one word:  _ ‘ambitious.’ _

It was the kettle always brewing Tom’s preferred cup of coffee, as soon as he rose before the sun or while he was stealing time with Harry. It was the honey, thick, and the lemon, sliced, when he had his mid-day pitch of tea or wanted something that tasted nice, as he juggled between contracts and emails and clients.

It was the calendar he swore by and although he was atheist, Tom was devout to this thing called a schedule and a plan. Where even while in quarantine, it didn’t mess with what he had. And if that were possible for anyone, Harry knew it had to be him. 

Because Tom never settled or allowed for anything to hold him back, not when there was so much he wanted to do while the world was in his hands. It was nothing but an oyster while he was a pick: there was a pearl for him to find and all his goals led to this. 

Even if it meant more late nights than he wanted, fast asleep in his office after London had gone to bed. Even if it meant he couldn’t be around as often, taking his meals at his desk and just living there while he was at it. And even if it meant he was like a ghost in Harry’s presence, gradually fading into the wallpaper and the scars underneath it.

Because he would only leave the spare bedroom for some tea or black coffee, murmuring about a deadline while fatigue all but swallowed him. And during moments like that or whenever Harry could prevent it, he would take Tom by the hand and would coax him to their sofa. 

Where he could cradle and nuzzle and just hold him against his chest, threading a few fingers and whispering into his hair if anyone had ever told him that he didn’t have to push himself like this. 

And sometimes, he would get an answer.

While other times, he wouldn’t. 

But every time, he could feel how Tom’s breathing had gotten heavier, as this man — as his love — snuggled deeper into his arms. Although he wouldn't rest for long, he was better when he got up. And instead of finishing his caffeine, he would get buzzed while kissing Harry and he would promise to those lips that he would find his work-life balance.

Before inevitably, he would chuckle and nuzzle deeper into Harry’s chest when the latter kissed him and squeezed him like he was a treasure in a dragon’s den. Murmuring all the while that Tom didn’t have to wait, that he could do this right now and wouldn’t that be great? 

But alas, he could not. There were manuscripts that needed him, and there was one in particular that needed more help than he could admit.

So if Harry could wait for about fifteen more pages — no more and no less if Tom could help himself — then he would gladly be his and they could indulge in this balance. But it was a little hard to leave since someone wouldn’t let go yet.

**Author's Note:**

> [ Tumblr](https://joeys-piano.tumblr.com/) |[ Twitter](https://twitter.com/joey_wingster)
> 
> I rarely format stories like how I did for this because I like dense paragraphs and there’s just something about this formatting that makes me feel like I’ve done something wrong. It throws me off my groove while I’m working. However, for this one, I made an exception to that rule. This is more or less a comedy, so I needed a format that complemented it.


End file.
